The First Step
by Tanya Tsuki
Summary: Germany has been acting weird around Italy lately, and Italy wants to know why. Germany? Well, he needs to learn to deal with his emotions better.


Germany was talking. This was nothing new, really, since Italy was used to Germany giving orders all the time, but there was something different about Germany.

Italy squinted his eyes, staring intently at Germany. Something was very different. Germany was talking, but he wasn't really looking at him. It was like there was a barrier between them or something. And, come to think of it, Germany had been like this ever since that night they were not to speak of. There had been a brief period when Germany wouldn't look at him without turning red, but then he was fine for a couple of weeks, and then the odd not being able to look at Italy and not turn red thing started to happen again.

It was all very weird.

Germany stopped talking and cleared his throat. He finally looked right at Italy, and their eyes met briefly. Italy broke the eye contact first, tilting his head in confusion, waiting for Germany to make the next move.

"I," Germany started and Italy bounced a little on his feet. When was he going to spit out whatever was bothering him? "I think I l-l…" he trailed off, his gaze meeting Italy's again. Whatever he was going to say died in his throat again and he turned away. "I will see you tomorrow," he said stiffly and shuffled off.

Italy sighed. Germany was acting very odd, indeed. He clinched a fist. This wasn't the Germany he knew, and he missed that Germany. Why was Germany acting so weird around him? What if he didn't like him anymore? That wouldn't be a good thing. Italy liked Germany so very much, and he couldn't bear the thought that Germany may not like him anymore. But what if Germany's weirdness was his way of saying he didn't want to be friends? Sure, he said he'd see Italy tomorrow but what if he didn't?

"Germanyyyyy~!" Italy screamed and ran after him, tackling him from behind, sobbing. "Does Germany hate Italy? What's wrong?"

Germany tensed momentarily. Then he pulled away which made Italy sob even harder because it was proof that he didn't like Italy and he didn't even know why but then Germany moved and hugged Italy, though it was obvious he was still feeling all awkward about something. "I don't hate you," he said simply.

Italy felt incredibly happy at that and threw his arms around Germany, hugging him tightly. "But Germany has been acting so weird lately and I'm worried and what's wronggggg?"

Looking rather uncomfortable again, Germany tried to pull away, but Italy's grip was tight. "N-nothing. Let me go, Italy," he snapped, prying one of Italy's arms off his person.

"But, Germany…" Italy trailed off, dropping his other arm.

"I will see you tomorrow," Germany repeated just as stiffly and walked away.

"Germany…" Italy sighed, looking down at his hands that had just been so happily around Germany. Something was seriously wrong with him and he didn't know what to do. He wasn't even sure _what_ was wrong.

* * *

Germany hurried away from their training area, his mind going a mile a minute. Italy thought he was just a friend, right? He didn't think of Germany has anything more. Did he even like men? Well, he must have. He did say that his first love was a boy, right? Could Germany even compare to that boy? Did he even want to? Why did he care so much? It was a bunch of weird misunderstandings, wasn't it?

But if it was a misunderstanding, why had Germany wanted him to say yes to that proposal so much? Why did his heart hurt so much around Italy? Why did he want nothing more than to just be with Italy and spending time together? Why did he want to compare himself to Italy's first love so much?

"What's up with you, West?" Prussia cackled, coming out of seemingly nowhere and slapping Germany on the back.

"Please refrain from hitting me, brother," Germany mumbled, moving away from Prussia's roaming hand.

Prussia just laughed again, deliberately smacking his back.

Germany rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, West, what's your problem?" Prussia asked, dropping his arm back to his side. "Is it that cute little Italy?"

"It's none of your business, brother," Germany sighed and continued walking. Perhaps he could ask Hungary? She might be more helpful than a book. She seemed to have it all together. Nodding to himself, he set off for Hungary's house, and ignored that Prussia was following.

"It _is_ Ita, isn't it? _Isn't it_?" he laughed, but Germany ignored him. "Man, West, if I were you I'd just give him a little taste of my wurst if you get what I mean."

Germany did, but he knew better than to acknowledge him. Prussia misunderstood, however, and shook his head. "Wow, West, there's no way you can be that innocent!"

Germany kept walking.

"All I'm saying," Prussia drawled, catching up enough that he could throw his arm over Germany's shoulder. The height difference made it a little awkward, but Prussia seemed not to notice. "Is _fuck. Him_." He removed his arm in order to emphasize his point with a couple of rude gestures that made Germany turn as red as Italy's favorite tomato sauce.

"You are incredibly foul and uncouth," Austria's voice drifted out from Hungary's door. "We could hear you from a mile away."

Prussia cackled and pushed passed him into the house. "Look who's talking, Specs."

Austria bristled but Hungary came up behind him, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Ignore him." Austria visibly relaxed while Germany couldn't help but notice that he also seemed to lean in towards Hungary. That must be nice, being so comfortable with and around someone that their mere presence is comforting. Germany could only remember one person being like that for him but lately it just hadn't been the same, had it? But was that him or was it… _him_. Germany groaned. Why was this so _difficult_?

Hungary moved away from Austria, coming to stand right in front of Germany, concern evident in her face. "What's wrong, Germany?"

Germany stared at her. How could he tell her what was wrong when he wasn't really sure himself? Didn't he love Italy? He thought he did. But there was no way Italy felt the same. Right? Could there be? If he did, he would have accepted the ring, right? But did he actually turn the ring down? Germany shook his head. Most important thing to focus on. Did he love Italy? He did. He hadn't been sure at the time of that incredibly embarrassing night, but he was rather certain now that he did. But how to go about that?

"-many! Germany!" Hungary shouted, snapping her fingers in front of Germany's face. Germany blinked and looked at her. "What in the world is wrong? This isn't like you."

"I'm in love with Italy," Germany blurted out. There. It was in the open. Oh, but there was that funny feeling again. Almost like when he proposed to Italy and blacked—

* * *

Germany came to on Hungary's couch and to a pair of beady red eyes looking down at him and just barely held back a scream of surprise. That was not what he wanted to see upon waking up.

"Are you alive, West?" Prussia asked, poking him.

"Stop that, Prussia," Hungary snapped and then turned to Germany. "You really do need to stop blacking out, dear," she said softly.

Nodding, Germany sat up on the couch, ignoring his vertigo. "I—"

"You're in love with little Italy!" Hungary cooed, her eyes shining, before coming in and giving him a hug. "I knew it! You two are so perfect for each other!" Germany nodded awkwardly and she pulled away, leaving her hands on his shoulders and looking him eye-to-eye. "Have you told him yet? Ooooh, what did he say?"

She looked so expectant that Germany wasn't sure what to say, so he simply averted his eyes.

"Oh," Hungary said, dejectedly, and scratched her chin. "Yeah. That didn't work out too well last time, did it?" she asked, though her question wasn't directed at anyone in particular. "You should try again!"

"What?" Germany's voice cracked. He could really use something to drink right now. Preferably something with alcohol. Prussia, for once playing the part of the good brother, provided and a glorious mug was shoved into Germany's hands. Germany nodded in thanks and took a long gulp, ignoring Hungary's anxious staring.

"I do not think that that would be a good idea," Germany finally said once the mug was half empty.

"It's a great idea! And this time, you can make it more intimate, you know, just you and him, so there's no need to be nervous or embarrassed by doing it in public! Oh, I have so many ideas you can try~!" Hungary exclaimed, jumping to her feet and looking triumphant.

Germany felt positively green. "Hungary, I—"

"Great! First, we can try—" her voice trailed off as she ran out of the room.

Sighing, Germany finished off the mug. This was going to be a long, _long_ night. But… he sighed again. Italy was worth it. Maybe she could come up with a good idea. Maybe.

* * *

Italy sighed. Germany was still acting odd, but it was different from usual! After their hug a few days ago, Germany had sent him a message saying that he was sick—though the handwriting looked a bit off, almost like Hungary's—and that he wouldn't be able to see Italy for a while. But then, this morning a message arrived asking him to come over for dinner.

Germany was inviting Italy over to dinner! He never invited Italy, Italy just showed up.

Italy had reached Germany's door and stood outside, staring at the grains in the wood. Normally he'd just pop right on inside and see what was going on, but with Germany being so weird lately, Italy wasn't sure whether her should be acting weird, too, or not. And Italy still wasn't sure _why_ Germany was being all weird. He'd gone through everything that had happened in the last few months and sure there had been a few… accidents here and there, a few things broken, a few shouts of "ITALIA!" but nothing really stuck out. Just that one dinner…

Well, standing on the porch wasn't going to bring about any answers. He may as well just go in and ask Germany what was wrong. Maybe Germany would tell him this time!

Nodding furiously, Italy pushed the door open and stepped inside where he was hit immediately with the smell of pasta and spices. Germany. Making pasta? Italy furrowed his brows. Germany never made pasta, not even on Italy's birthday! So why now?

"Germany!" Italy shouted and ran into the kitchen, stopping abruptly at the sight. There stood Germany at the stove, dressed in an incredibly frilly apron, pulling a noodle out of the pot to taste. He watched as Germany lowered it into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully, that serious look he got sometimes on his face. Italy felt his mouth go dry. Germany, whether he was acting weird or not, was still his Germany. "Germany!" he exclaimed again.

Germany jumped, dropping the spoon into the pot. Italy found himself frowning again; Germany didn't normally let his guard down and always knew about his surroundings. "Italy," he choked out. Italy tilted his head. Choking? Germany? "You're early."

"Ve~?" Was he really? Oh no! Had he'd caught Germany's weirdness?

"Just go take a seat out there," Germany waved at the dining room area. "I'll be there shortly with dinner."

Italy nodded and prepared to skip off, but he paused. "Germany?"

"What, Italy?"

"Where did you get that apron?"

Italy would have sworn that Germany turned redder than a tomato as he yelled "OUT!"

* * *

The dinner was… awkward. Italy sucked down his pasta in no time at all, but then he realized that Germany was just picking at his. Every so often he'd put his fork down and either stare at Italy, turning all red again, or open his mouth like he wanted to say something. He never did, though.

"Ve… Germany," Italy finally said once his pasta had disappeared.

Germany was in one of his staring modes again and it took him a second to realize that Italy had spoken. "Yes?"

"What's wrong? Germany has been acting so strange lately and and and—"

"—D-dessert time!" Germany shouted, cutting Italy off and disappearing into the kitchen.

"Germany didn't even finish his food…" Italy muttered, eyeing the still full plate of pasta. He sighed, running his finger along the edge of his plate. Germany was… well, if Italy didn't know better, he'd say Germany was acting like a teenager in love. But that was silly. Germany wouldn't act like that, right?

"I…" Germany started and Italy looked up. Everything about Germany's posture said that he was nervous, but there was that old hint of determination in his eyes. "I baked this. For you," he spat out, and jerkily walked over to the table where he placed a cake in front of Italy. "It was Hungary's idea."

Italy looked down at the cake, the heart-shaped cake that was very obviously hand-made. It had been decorated in what seemed to be strawberry frosting and there was nothing written on it, but suddenly, Germany's behavior and message made sense.

"Germany… does Germany _like_ Italy?" Italy asked, wanting to hear it from him.

Germany turned red again and felt the urge to turn away, but he didn't, locking eyes with Italy.

"Yes," he said simply.

Italy beamed and jumped away from the table, launching himself at Germany in a hug. "Well, Italy likes Germany very, very much, too," he exclaimed before giving Germany a kiss.

The next thing he knew, they were both on the ground, and Germany was as red as could be. And asleep.

"Ve…. Germany?" Italy poked him. This was just like the end of that one night… Italy smiled and curled up next to Germany. They would definitely have to work on Germany's embarrassment. But at least he knew why Germany was acting weird. It all made sense, now. And, since he knew the problem, he could help Germany get better, just one step at a time.


End file.
